Misunderstanding
by Don't Mess With Aria
Summary: Joker gets something off his chest, and Garrus's habit of interpreting Shep's words in the best possible light backfires.


AN: This was going to be part of the main story line for _Game Over,_ but it turned out not to work. And yet I liked it anyway. So, here it is.

* * *

Shepard stood in the lounge, staring into the blackness of space. How long would you drift, if neither the vacuum nor temperature killed you? A lifetime? Ten? Eternity. An eternity of cold. An eternity of burning lungs begging for oxygen.

If a crack appeared in the lounge window, it would spread. In no time at all, it would spiderweb across the entire pane of glass, weakening the integrity. Explosive decompression would send the window shattering outward, pulling Shepard and anything not bolted down out with it. She glanced around, wondering what would go.

_The books. The drinks. Most of the furniture._

"Shep, there you are. I wanted to run some numbers by you."

Shepard could see the crack in the glass now. She put her hand over it; why? Did she think that would stop it? The crack spread under her hand, and Shepard knew her only option was to run, to bolt into the hallway and seal the door to this room, call EDI and let her know what was happening so they could save the ship.

"Shep? Something wrong?"

The cracks had reached the edges of the glass, now. It was too late to run, but her body tensed to run anyway. Then the glass shattered. She felt the pull of the escaping air drag her through, then only cold. She kicked, just like she had the first time. She didn't have her helmet on this time, but it wouldn't have mattered. The first time she had hoped right up until the end that she might be picked up, pulled to safety like a drowning sailor, now with an interesting story to tell.

"_Shepard!"_

Cold. Dark. The end, part two. She didn't have the air to scream. She had never screamed the first time, still hoping for rescue. Still _expecting_ rescue. Not this time. Now she knew how the story would end, she knew that she was not an exception, she wanted to scream and lacked even the air to do so, and her _eyes_ felt funny, her goddam _eyes,_ and of course that was familiar, although with the helmet, and the little atmosphere she'd had the first time, she was already blacking out before she felt her eyes trying to leave her, every blood vessel trying to burst through the surface of her skin which had always seemed so adequate for protection, and it was happening again, only this time she was done, this time there would be no magical resurrection-

"_Commander Shepard," _Garrus roared, shaking her by the arm.

Shepard's dazed grey eyes looked up at him.

"What?"

"Spirits, you're pale," Garrus muttered. He put one three-fingered hand against her cheek. "You're cold. Shep, are you sick?"

"No, just thinking."

"What were you thinking that left you looking like death?"

Shepard shuddered and pulled away from him.

"Nothing, I wasn't thinking, I wasn't thinking anything at all," she snapped, leaving the room. Garrus stared after her a moment, gape-mouthed, then looked out the window. Nothing there; just the same space they'd been gallivanting through two years ago. He had never seen Shepard like this. Shepard afraid; Shepard breaking down.

_What's happened to her?_ he wondered, then cursed himself. It was a curse only turians could throw, one that maligned his family for generations back. If he hadn't been so stupid, he would have been on the Normandy with her back then. He would know exactly what had happened.

_Or maybe it wouldn't have happened._ Garrus snarled. He hadn't wanted to ask Shepard about it, and now he realized he could have asked Joker at any time. And he hadn't.

_Coward._

Was he afraid of what Joker would tell him? That if he, Garrus, had been there, he could have saved her?

_No more,_ he promised. He stormed out of the lounge, not waiting for the elevator, and sprinted up the service stairs. Joker was going to tell him everything, now. Whether he wanted to or not.

#

"Joker," Garrus growled. Joker turned, took one glance at his dark look, and held his hands up in a don't-hurt-me gesture.

"Whatever it is, man, I didn't do it."

Something about the defensiveness pushed Garrus over the edge. He stalked over to Joker and picked him up by his uniform, shaking him.

"Tell me."

"Shit, dude, I don't know! Can I get some context? Also, ow."

Garrus recovered himself enough to set Joker down. Carefully; any broken bones on the cripple would mean his ass, if Shep found out.

"Tell me how Shepard died. I've heard whispers that you know, and not just that you were there. Something else. Tell me."

Joker hung his head.

"If you're here to kill me, man, just do it. I don't even mind. I deserve it. Reapers and geth and robotic turian crazy people, and I was the one who got Commander Shepard killed."

"What do you mean? Were you flying badly?"

"Flying…" Joker asked, confused. "Are you kidding me? You don't- She's never said?"

"Tell me now, Joker. I won't ask again."

"Well, it was Collectors. You know that much."

Garrus nodded.

"They ambushed us. No one even knows how, but they were just waiting. And we were cloaked, but they saw us anyway, and I mean, I did my best. Anyone else, there wouldn't have been any time. I bought us seconds that got people to escape pods."

"I'm aware that you're amazing. Get to the damn point."

"I… I didn't want to leave the ship, I just… I don't know. I mean, you know I can't really walk, right? So my ship, it was really-"

"Am I interested in your sob story?" Garrus asked coldly. Joker grimaced.

"I was trying to explain. Commander Shepard came back. Dragged my ass out of there. Forced me into a pod. Then, the thing was torn apart, and she was out in space. I could see her tubes leaking before my pod launched, I…"

"Shep was spaced?" Garrus's voice was low and quiet. He stared over Joker's head, trying to imagine. Once, as a child, his sister had "playfully" held his head under water at the beach. His chest tightened to think of Shepard, without even a chance. Shepard alone, listening to her oxygen, her life, drain out of her suit.

"Yeah. So if you want to kill me, fine. Like I said, I deserve it. But do yourself a favor; don't ever let Shepard know why you killed me. You know she would have saved me even if she knew it'd kill her. She's not going to look at you the same if you kill me for that."

"Look at me the…? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, please, am I supposed to pretend now that you don't watch her all the time? That you haven't spent the last two years pursuing your Master's in Inebriation because she was gone? How about the fact that you're still thinking about killing me?"

Garrus didn't say anything for a time. Did everyone know? Did Shepard know, and she was just trying to be nice about shooting him down? Joker read his face, answering his unvoiced thoughts.

"Don't worry, man, it's just me. Pervert-vision. Now, if you don't mind? I'm going to have to go change my pants, and it takes me a very long time."

Garrus wandered out of the cockpit, brooding. He had gotten what he'd asked for, and nothing that he wanted. No one to blame, no way to put it right. Not even a way he could have put it right, if he'd known.

"Master's in Inebriation," he scoffed. Although that didn't sound so bad, did it? Shepard would be disappointed, but what did that matter now? If Joker knew, then Shepard had to know. She was choosing to ignore it. Telling him that there was no chance, without having to tell him and crush him.

Garrus sighed. He had been a lot of things, imagined a lot more. He never thought he'd end up being a drunk, over a woman.

#

Shepard found Garrus in the lounge, where he was trying to find the bottom of a bottle of Cipritine brandy. Or, the bottom of this bottle. Two others lay empty on the floor.

"You're drinking again?" she asked.

"I thought it appropriate."

"Garrus, I told you-"

"No, I told you, Shepard. I told you I've been drinking for two years because you were gone. And then you waited until I was nearly killed to call me ugly."

"Garrus-"

"And you can call me Vakarian, if you're determined to keep this _professional." _He heard the disgust in his voice, tried to stop it, and couldn't. He was far too drunk for tact. "But you could have had the courtesy to just tell me we weren't even friends anymore."

"Garrus, I didn't mean it like that. It was a joke."

"Some joke."

"I don't know where this thing about not being friends came from, though. I make one bad joke, and you-"

"No. Stop it. I've been trying to tell you I love you, and you call me ugly and treat me like some raw recruit who doesn't know his place. You don't even tell me why you're freaking out at all the windows, I had to have Joker to explain it to me. Last time, you would have confided in me. Now, you don't tell me anything. So, fine. We're not friends. But I'm done, Shep." He paused for a moment, taking a drink. "Now we have the Collectors to deal with, but after this, no more. I'm not following you to hell and back one more time, if this is how you thank me."

"Garrus, I… I'm sorry."

Garrus turned to look at her. Her face was flushed and she stared off into a corner, unable to meet his gaze. "Well, look who's learned a new word."

"Come on, I'm trying. Don't make this more difficult."

"Why not? You're hard enough on me."

"Look, I know I owe you. You've saved my ass more times than I care to count-"

"Don't you dare make this sound like some sort of obligation," he growled, slamming the bottle down. It cracked, but didn't shatter. "I don't want anything from you out of- I'd rather nothing, than that."

Shepard shook her head, sighing, and started again.

"That's not what I meant. Garrus, I'm in over my head here. I have this whole ship, again, I didn't even want one the first time-"

"You did just fine." _I will not feel sorry for her. I'm done with that, too._

"I did fine with people I trusted. Alliance personnel who hadn't defected. Specialists I recruited myself. And we were fighting one guy. Yeah, he had an army, but he was one guy. And one ship. And if we failed, there were others. Someone else would have stopped Saren's geth. But now? No one else is fighting the Collectors. No one else is concerned about the Reapers, whenever they're planning on showing up. I have this whole crew I don't know, most of them Cerberus. Cerberus, Garrus. You remember we were killing these guys a couple of years ago? You, me, Tali, Wrex. And now you're here, but you were picked by Cerberus. Maybe on purpose, maybe not. Either way, it leaves me in the same position. Surrounded by enemies and people I can't quite trust."

"I thought you'd forgotten who the enemy is," he said. "You're friendlier with them than with me."

"You want something else. And that's part of the problem. Everyone else just expects me to command. But you… I don't know what you want. I just know that everything is on my shoulders. Every decision is mine alone, and every bad one will get someone killed. And then with you on top of that…. You're distracting, Garrus. All of this, it's just too much. Too much for me to be responsible for."

_Distracting? Not disgusting, but distracting?_

"And to try to build a relationship with you at the same time? Too much. Not to mention every time I talk to you, I end up saying something stupid," she muttered.

_Oh, good. I thought I was the only one._

"Too much… responsibility?" he asked. His head was swimming in liquor, but there was something important here. She was telling him something, underneath the words.

"Yes." Her face was still flushed, still looking away from him. And she didn't want the responsibility, she had said.

"You'd want someone else… to take control, sometimes?" he asked, trying to be sure.

"That would be nice."

In two strides, he was across the room, his arms wrapped around her and holding her hands behind her back.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

On his visor, Garrus could watch her heartbeat racing.

_You should have just asked me sooner._

He dropped his face to nuzzle at her neck, and now he could feel her pulse quickening. He shifted so he was holding both her wrists in one hand, and let his other hand drift, across her hips, her waist, up to her ribs.

"Garrus."

Garrus nipped lightly at her neck, and let his hand settle on her breast, an object which had mystified him ever before, but was now so intriguing on Shepard.

"Garrus, I swear to God I am going to kill you. Then I will leave your corpse on some shitty rock with no atmo and no fauna as a permanent warning. I will have that fucker _bronzed."_

Garrus pulled back a little; surely their species' love-talk wasn't so different as that? As he looked into her face, his heart sank into his stomach and his mandibles went slack. All the uncertainty was gone from her face, leaving nothing but her battlefield look.

_Oh, spirits, this wasn't what she meant at all._ At the realization, he abruptly shoved her away, horrified. She fell against the wall, and he instinctively reached to catch her, but already she had found her feet.

_And her pistol,_ he noted, as she drew on him.

"Don't try me," she snarled. "I would hate to have to write your father a letter detailing how you died here, instead of out fighting Collectors."

Garrus stumbled backwards, nearly falling on one of the brandy bottles he'd emptied tonight. His mouth worked silently, looking for something, anything he could say to fix this. After a minute of coming up with nothing, he did the only reasonable thing he could think of.

He fled.

#

Shepard holstered her weapon and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

_Just what the hell was that? That wasn't like him at all._ She had never before seen Garrus aggressive in that way. Now that he was out of the room, she tried to figure out what had triggered that. He had seemed dismayed, at the end - was he only then figuring out that she was saying no?

_Did I do some turian thing and he thought I meant it on purpose? Shit._ She played the conversation back, trying to figure out what gave him that impression.

_Doesn't matter. That's on him. _Yes, it was. Misunderstandings between species would be on both of them, but she hadn't been the one groping.

Still … she knew herself enough to know she was only objecting to the surprise, and the fact that he hadn't asked consent. Otherwise, it was actually quite -

_Stop it. You're a soldier._ That's right. A soldier who was going to kick her second-in-command's ass the next time she saw him. Then, they'd be fine again … right?

_He thinks we're not friends. He thinks I dislike him._ Okay, so maybe no ass-kicking. He was still going to know just exactly how badly he'd messed up, by the time she got through with him.

#

Garrus awoke sober and feeling like the biggest piece of shit in the galaxy. He'd kipped in the main battery instead of his bed, so he was also sore, but that was surely no less than he deserved.

_What did I nearly do?_ He didn't want to even think the word.

_Good job, Vakarian. Now you're a monster to her. Scum. How will you ever look her in the eyes again?_

He would apologize. Profusely. There was no way she would forgive him, but maybe at least she wouldn't show her contempt when she was forced to speak to him.

_A verbal apology won't do. She won't be able to hear the regret in your harmonics._

No, she wouldn't. Besides that, he had erred too badly for a verbal apology to suffice.

_Maybe she'll only kick your ass. You deserve it, and once that's done, she'll forgive you._

_Shut up. _Wishful thinking was painful right now; he knew he had lost her for good, now, and the pain was too fresh.

Garrus tried to think. It would have to be a formal apology, then. He'd have to explain it to her; as a human, she wouldn't have seen one before. Should he bring witnesses? No, Shep would hate that. Probably. Where would she be; was she still asleep?

_No, Vakarian, she's almost certainly at the gym. Warming up so she can kill you when she sees you. _So, he knew where to find her. She was Shepard, and she was pissed, and everything important that happened between them always seemed to be in the gym. He decided he would shower, first, then realized he'd been walking the whole time he had been running through his options in his head; he was already at the door to the gym.

Garrus knew that he was correct, that she was actually there, before he even entered the gym; he didn't know anyone else who could make their footfalls sound so angry while running on a treadmill. Her back was to him as he slid through the door silently. Before he could lose his nerve, he crossed the room and knelt in front of the treadmill. He put his hands behind his back, locking his right hand around his left wrist. Then he turned his head to the side, leaving his vulnerable stretch of neck exposed, no longer protected by his rounded collar.

Shepard slowed, then stepped off the treadmill and stood at the end, watching him.

"What are you doing, Vakarian?"

_She's using your surname again. I told you._

"This is a formal apology. When a turian has fucked up badly enough and needs to apologize, he presents his throat. Then the other person can decide how grievous the offense was. A light nip means that all is forgiven. Drawing blood means you're still angry. My hands are behind my back, because I'm not allowed to defend myself. Even if you decide to kill me. Technically, you would be allowed to rip my throat out if you thought I deserved it. You barely have any teeth, though, so feel free to use your weapon to get your point across. Shepard, I can't tell you how sorry I am."

Garrus stayed still as Shepard approached him. His eyes were averted due to his formal stance, but he didn't want to look at her, either. If he saw disgust on her face, he would never be able to forget it. Uncomfortable, Garrus started spewing words, the way he always seemed to do around her.

"I could blame cultural misunderstanding," he said. "But I was also drunk. And the truth is, I wanted to misunderstand. I wanted to believe - It doesn't matter. I'm not sure if this even really counts, since there are no witnesses. I thought you'd prefer privacy, but if you want witnesses, I'll wait. I don't mind -"

_Stop rambling, you moron._

As she drew closer, he scented her sweat. Spirits, the smell of her was exotic. Like faraway spices, rarely savored.

_Forget it. There's no more chance of anything, ever, with Shep. You've ruined it._ Garrus knew this, but it was still difficult to keep from touching her when she was this close and this tempting. Kneeling, he was still nearly the same height as she was standing, and her scent was intoxicating.

_Keep it together, Vakarian._

Garrus fought to keep himself still as she stepped right up to him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and leaned in to gently nip him on the neck, just where the sensitive scarring started. Garrus bit back a groan as desire curled in his stomach.

"Shepard, your teeth," he managed. He struggled to maintain control and tried again. "Shepard, I don't understand what you mean with your inferior jaw strength. No more mix-ups. Use your gun. Or hit me. Hit me as hard as you feel you need to, as hard as I deserve. That'll be clearer."

"Not clear enough, huh?" Shep asked. Garrus tried to remember which tone that was for humans; damn stupid translator lost so much meaning.

_Why can't she just be as direct with this as she is with everything else?_

Shepard moved closer, pressing her length against him. Garrus's arms trembled with the effort of keeping them locked behind his back. Her mouth found the base of his neck again, and placed a kiss there, a sharper bite, then a soothing tongue. Garrus's hands finally broke free of his will, and snuck around to gently touch her hips.

And then she pulled away. This time Garrus did groan.

"Spirits, don't tell me I'm misunderstanding your intent again." Garrus hated himself a little for the pleading tone, but mostly he was too busy wishing she would come back, tell him clearly that he was forgiven, and that she cared about him as deeply as he cared about her.

Now Garrus stared at her face, trying to pull some meaning out of the foreign expressions. Was she flushed, or was that still from the treadmill? Shepard was the one who wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Just… just give me some time, okay, Garrus?" she asked. Shepard turned and strode briskly out of the room.

"Sure, Shepard," Garrus told her retreating back.

_Time, sure. Take all the time you need. I can be patient._

_Unless she means something else again._ Garrus shifted until he was sitting on the floor. What might a human woman mean by that?

_Doesn't matter._

No, it didn't. Whether she meant "not yet" or "not ever," his response would need to be the same. Give her some space. Assume nothing.

_And for spirits' sakes, keep your hands off of her unless she asks._

Yes. He could do that. He wondered if there was still enough Cipritine brandy to take the edge off, then remembered how much his self-medicating with drink disappointed Shepard. Did it matter? Was there still any chance of impressing this confusing human woman?

Garrus shelved the brandy idea. Until he was certain of her feelings, he would try his damndest to be better, to be who Shep expected and deserved.

_Could you have picked a more difficult woman in the galaxy to need so badly?_

No, he probably couldn't have.


End file.
